✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 23✶

――✴✯✴――

A Unique Girl

――✴✯✴――

Year 130 A.C

Westeros

Sunmarch, Dorne

Serena sat quietly in the carriage, the steady rhythm of the horses hooves lulling her into a near-trance. It had been two hours since they'd left Starfall, her family traveling upriver along the Torrentine. 

Despite the heat of the day, the river's breeze brought a pleasant coolness that carried faint hints of water lilies and damp earth.

Through the open window, she could see the outskirts of Sunmarch in the distance. Smoke from cooking fires mingled with the glint of sunlight on canvas, revealing a sprawling encampment just outside the city walls. 

"What's that?" Sissi leaned closer to the window, squinting at the scene ahead.

"Refugees." Lord Dayne replied, his voice calm but firm. "They've come here fleeing from the chaos in Hightower lands. With Rhaenyra retaking the Red Keep just a week ago, many believe her victory is inevitable. They fear retaliation or further unrest and have left their homes seeking safety."

Lady Kyria sighed softly, her hands folded in her lap. 

"But instead of finding safety, they find this..." She said, nodding toward the cluster of tents visible in the distance. "A camp with too little food, too little shelter, and too many mouths to feed."

"Why don't they stay in the city?" Serena frowned, her gaze still fixed on the tents.

"Because there's no room." Lord Dayne answered. "The city of Sunmarch is already overflowing."

Sylara sat back, her expression troubled. 

"So... What are we supposed to do about it? There are so many of them..."

"We're going to the camp to meet with Lord Werneck." Their father explained. "He's overseeing things for now, but he needs help, our help. Supplies, perhaps guidance. Whatever we can provide."

"And hope the gods grant us wisdom to provide enough." Lady Kyria added, her voice tinged with worry.

The carriage slowed as they approached the camp, the hum of voices growing louder. Men and women moved through the rows of makeshift tents and carts, their faces drawn with weariness and anxiety. Children darted between them, their laughter muted and cautious. Serena's stomach tightened at the sight of it all.

Lady Kyria reached over, gently touching Serena and Sylara's hand. 

"Stay close girls." Her mother said, her voice calm but firm. "This is no place to wander."

When the carriage came to a stop, Lord Dayne stepped out first, his sharp gaze scanning the camp. He exchanged a brief word with the guards before helping Lady Kyria down. 

Serena and Sylara followed, the heat of the sun pressing against her as her boots touched the dusty ground.

The camp stretched far beyond what Serena had imagined. Rows of patched tents lined uneven dirt paths, while small groups huddled around fires or stood near makeshift wells. The smell of smoke, sweat, and despair hung heavy in the air.